Crafty Cripple Commune*

So, I was talking to some friends who also happen to be fellow crafters and chronically ill peeps, online today and someone mentioned how they wished we were neighbors.  So, of course, I decided we needed to all live in a commune.
My initial suggestions were ramps everywhere, conveniently placed nap spots, cabana boys (I should add in girls, for those so inclined), lots of fiber bearing animals, and high explosives.  (Gotta have high explosives - it's a commune, isn't it?)

Other suggested additions:
- Unlimited pain meds and topicals that actually work.
- Top quality medical care with doctors who aren't douchebags, possibly provided in exchange for knitted/crocheted goods

And things I've come up with since:
- lots of gardens
- wireless heating pads
- a moat and 10,000 gerbils oops, that's for something else
- an enormous library

And we've already decided to demand really expensive, high quality yarn for the FBI standoff.

In vaguely related news, I've discovered I might be psychic.  I was re-reading a rather snarky autobiographical sketch I wrote a few years ago and it had the following line:

She hopes to propose a dissertation concerning redacted to protect, uh, someone, assuming that this dissertation topic doesn’t go the way the last one did – with a whimper, a bang, the theft of several expensive books, random threats, and a whiff of gin and over-priced men’s cologne.
Well, the gin turned out to be moonshine.  And no one stole books this time.  And none of the men involved wore cologne (though some of them really probably should.)  Otherwise, yeah, pretty much what happened.

So, in that vein:

She hopes to legally acquire several million dollars in the near future along with the deed to a beautiful ranch in Wyoming.  And for a friend to become a rich and successful healthcare worker.  Oh, and she still wants a pony.  And a shotgun.

*What?  It's alliterative!  That beats out offensiveness.

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